


Reversal of Fortunes

by von_gelmini



Series: MCU Kink Bingo Round 4 [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, As in Slaves Can't Consent, Brat Peter Parker, College Student Peter Parker, Dark Richard Parker, Dark Tony Stark, Dark fic, Inappropriate Type of Lube Used, M/M, Mechanic Tony Stark, Rape/Non-con Elements, Role Reversal, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, dark themes, debt slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23016025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/pseuds/von_gelmini
Summary: From a distance, Peter saw olive skin, shirtless glistening with sweat. Muscular, but not grotesque. Finely crafted. Sculpted. Peter’s own body had broad shoulders but a nipped in waist. This man was solid all the way from shoulders to… oh my god… the most perfect round globes of his denim clad ass. The jeans he wore were tight around his thighs as well. Thick and muscular. The slave’s entire lower body looked like it was designed to provide incredible strength and stamina when he fucked. He looked like he could fuck hard. Peter whimpered again and touched himself through his khaki shorts.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: MCU Kink Bingo Round 4 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632193
Comments: 39
Kudos: 173
Collections: MCU Kink Bingo Round 4





	Reversal of Fortunes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the MCU Kink Bingo Round 4. The prompt was: Slavery.

Peter was _bored._ Why his father insisted on taking him to these things, he never knew. Yes, he’d be his heir and should know how to manage an estate, but he planned on hiring an overseer for that. He had no interest in the slaves his father owned. Disgustingly voluptuous women who pranced around the house pretending to be servants when what they really were were his father’s fucktoys. Who his mother ignored in favor of staring at the bottom of wine bottles. The last thing his gay ass he wanted to see was another pair of tits. 

“Dad, do I have to stay? God, don’t you have enough house slaves?”

“I’m not buying for the house, Peter. I know the nature of the house slaves you’ll keep when you inherit my estate will change. You’ll do that in your own time. But I’m buying laborers and field hands today. Even if all you do is stock the house with boys, you need to know how to judge a working slave’s value. Now stop sulking and follow me out to the pens.”

Peter huffed a sigh. At least they were looking at men. But big dumb hunks of muscle little better than the horse he rode when he played polo. That was an insult to Jax. He was probably smarter than a field hand. A tray of champagne wafted by, carried by a cute young man with a nice dick, and Peter followed. His absence was unnoticed by his father who was assessing the value of the meat.

The waiter was happy to follow young Mr. Parker into an alcove, as he was required to do. He was surprised at the young master’s request. Peter dropped to his knees and sucked the man hard, making sure to leave his dick coated with a thick layer of spit. Then he knelt on the bed. “Fuck me. I’ll tell you how I like it.” Peter directed the slave as if he were a dildo attached to a human body, making him give him all the pleasure he wanted, but ordered not to come from it. When Peter came, he zipped up and left the slave, hard and dripping, without a backwards glance.

His father was disappointed that Peter hadn’t stayed, but unsurprised. He drove them back out to their ranch. The auction was forgotten as Peter lost himself in socializing, riding, and generally being the spoiled only son of Richard Parker, owner of one of the biggest ranches in the state. 

~~~~~

Slavery was technically peonage. Only the debt, once someone fell into it, could never be repaid at the “wages” a slave was required to be given. The economy was highly divided. There were the 1%, where Peter dwelled. The 24% where most free people dwelled. And the 75%, where they scrambled for pennies to keep themselves out of debt slavery. Most failed. The 75% served the other 25%, pretty much in perpetuity, with lip service given to their ‘technical’ freedom.

It was rare, but someone in the 1% could fall. Bad business decisions, embezzlement of their company’s funds, loss of market share, dozens of pitfalls awaited the 1% who weren’t vigilant.

Tony Stark was too busy drinking, fucking anything that moved, and spending his dead father’s money to be vigilant. His father’s best friend and his mentor, locked him out of his own company, arranging for all the company’s debt to look like Tony himself had personally accrued it through his mismanagement. Which is how one playboy, billionaire, genius, philanthropist wound up a sold to Richard Parker’s ranch. Richard was going to put him to field work, but then he recognized the worn, weathered man, who looked nothing like the Tony Stark he knew from magazine covers. It didn’t matter. He was a slave and he belonged to the Parker estate. But a good mechanic could be put to more useful work than laboring in the fields. Tony was led to the garage and told to work.

Tony was effusive in his thanks to his new master. His previous one had indeed put him in the fields, where he was basically incompetent. His body was welted and scarred from punishment. Finally, after three years, his old master gave up on Tony and sold him cheaply. Richard got a bargain. He had nothing personal against Stark. It was later found out that his mentor sold him out and the company, also sold cheaply, was broken up and went to other owners. Tony’s debt was massive. He’d work for Master Parker until the day he died. Thankfully he never had children and wouldn’t unless his master chose to breed him. But he didn’t give a damn about that. Any kids born from him mounting a female slave weren’t his. No attachment. Tony didn’t make attachments. He hadn’t done so as a free man, why do it now, when an attachment could be sold the next day.

~~~~~

It was one of the hottest summers on record. Even the air conditioning couldn’t keep the house cool, and Peter was sick at looking at walking tits waving fans. He perched himself on a fence rail and watched… nothing. There was nothing of interest anywhere on the ranch. He leaned back and turned his face to the sun, feeling its warmth. When he looked down again, his eye caught movement in the big barn where the farm equipment was stored. He bit his lip and whimpered.

From a distance, Peter saw olive skin, shirtless glistening with sweat. Muscular, but not grotesque. Finely crafted. _Sculpted._ Peter’s own body had broad shoulders but a nipped in waist. This man was solid all the way from shoulders to… oh my god… the most perfect round globes of his denim clad ass. The jeans he wore were tight around his thighs as well. Thick and muscular. The slave’s entire lower body looked like it was designed to provide incredible strength and stamina when he fucked. He looked like he could fuck _hard._ Peter whimpered again and touched himself through his khaki shorts. 

Peter’s lustful assessment didn’t even _touch_ on the slave’s arms. He held a hammer and was beating a dented fender back into shape. His arms _rippled_ and shone with sweat running over streaks of grease and oil. The slave turned to set down the hammer and pick up another tool. He couldn’t quite make out the slave’s features, but he had a wonderful view of his chest. There was a light dusting of hair straight down the center. Muscles again but like Peter had never seen. He hated the over-built fieldhands. But he hated the soft, handsome rich boys like himself, too. He knew he was gay, but he’d never seen a man who _did it_ for him. Until now. The slave was dirty and all Peter wanted was to be soiled. 

Peter stopped touching himself and tried to will his erection to go down. At least _some._ He was free and it didn’t matter how he presented himself in front of a slave, but walking over hiding a full erection was just awkward. And would send the message that he was looking to fuck instead of get fucked. He turned away from the barn and watched some ugly hunks of muscle. That brought him right down. 

He slid down off his perch and walked over to the barn. Okay, maybe _swayed_ his way over to the barn. “Hi.”

The slave suddenly stopped what he was doing and put his tools down. “Hello, Young Master,” he said, eyes cast downward.

“Ugh. I hate that ‘young master’ thing. I’m twenty, not a child.”

“What shall I call you, sir,” Tony asked, hoping ‘sir’ was deferential enough until given something else to call him.

“Unless my dad’s near us, Master will do just fine.”

“Yes, Master.”

Now that he was close, Peter could see the scars crisscrossing the slave’s back. He even had some on his front and his arms. Peter reached out and ran a fingertip over the slave’s bicep, tracing one of them. “Were you disobedient?”

“No, Master.” Tony tried not to flinch when he was touched. Field hands were hardly ever sexually used and he hadn’t been, but he wasn’t a field hand anymore. He wasn’t keen on being thirty-eight and losing his ‘virginity’. Not that he’d have a say in it. “I was ill-suited to the work my former Master put me to.”

“Which was?” Peter asked, stepping closer. He could smell the sweat and grease.

“Field work, Master. I was a mechanic by trade before.”

Peter went from caressing with a fingertip to sliding his palm over the slave’s arm. “You don’t look like a field hand, thank god. Do you have a name, or just this number?” Peter’s hand moved up the slave’s arm to his neck, where all slaves were marked.

“I’m Tony, Master.”

“Tony.” Peter tasted the name on his tongue. It felt good there. “Stand still, Tony.” Peter’s hands went for the button of Tony’s jeans.

“Yes Master,” Tony said, holding himself tense.

Peter undid Tony’s fly and hefted his cock and balls out. “Oh my god,” he moaned appreciatively. He dropped to his knees on the barn floor. He took Tony’s soft cock into his mouth, sealing his lips behind the head, and letting his tongue dance. He balanced his hands on Tony’s thighs.

Tony sucked in a breath between his teeth and tried to keep from groaning in pleasure. Since he’d been sold, he’d had nothing but his own hand on his cock. He started to get hard instantly.

“Fuck Tony, you’re _huge,”_ Peter moaned. He looked up at Tony’s face. “Are you able to come more than once or are you one and done, like most of the muscle on this place.”

Tony felt his face heat. “No, Master. I mean, yes, Master, I can come more than once. I need a bit of time between. I’m sorry, Master.”

“More than twice?” Peter’s eyebrows rose, hopefully.

“Occasionally three, Master.”

“God, you’re heaven. I might actually have to thank my father for something. I _hate_ that, but you’re worth it.”

Tony was in uncharted territory. He was well known as a playboy. Fond of both men and women. A sexual athlete in bed. But always on top. He didn’t want to assume, but it seemed like that was what his Master’s son wanted. He snuck a glance at the boy as he sucked his dick. The boy was gorgeous. Just the type he would’ve bedded in the old days. He didn’t want to disappoint, so even though he’d been without for three years, he tried to remember his self control.

Peter looked up at Tony. “You’re not gonna shoot too fast, are you?”

“No Master,” Tony said, biting his lip.

“Good. I want you to come in my mouth. When I’m ready, I’ll do this…” Peter tapped Tony’s thigh three times. “Then you come. Can you do that?”

Tony considered it, only a moment. The skill had been in his repertoire. He hoped he still had it. “Yes Master.”

Peter licked a stripe down Tony’s cock. “God you’re filthy.”

“I could shower if that would please Master more.”

Peter gripped Tony’s thighs. “Don’t you dare! Fuck, it’s hot.” He nuzzled his face in Tony’s coarse hair. “You smell… god… you smell like a man.”

A smirk passed briefly over Tony’s face before he remembered he wasn’t who he used to be. He schooled his features.

He took Tony’s shaft in his hand, leisurely stroking it just to keep him hard. He looked up the slave’s body. “How long have you been a slave?” 

“Three years Master.”

Peter chuckled. “Didn’t think it had been long. You have too much of yourself left.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“Don’t be! I like that. God I’m so bored with _everything._ You’re,” he smiled, “something new.” They weren’t supposed to ask, but a Master did whatever he wanted. “What was your last name?” He saw a wince.

“Stark, Master.”

Peter’s brow furrowed, then his eyes went wide. “THE Tony Stark?”

“Yes Master. I’m Tony the slave now, Master.”

“Yeah, okay, but…” Peter grinned up at him. “Tony Stark had a _reputation_ for fucking.”

The wince came again. Nothing he was then was what he was now. “Yes, Master, but that was a long time ago.”

Peter shimmied out of his shorts. “You’re not coming in my mouth,” he said excitedly. He bent over the dirty workbench, pushing tools out of his way. “Fuck me, Tony.”

“Is that allowed, Master? Your father…”

“Doesn’t give a damn what slave I let fuck me.” Peter looked over his shoulder. “But he does give a damn if they won’t.”

“I don’t have any lube, Master,” Tony demurred.

“You don’t have anything in this shop? I don’t care what you use. I want your dick up my ass. Now.” Peter snapped impatiently.

Tony found a bit of oil. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing to use or not, but it’s what the Master asked for. And his back showed the cost of disobedience. He drizzled the oil down the crack of the young man’s ass. He fought to hide his reaction. The kid was perfect. His ass pale and white, his cheeks firm round globes. His Master’s son, Peter, wasn’t just the type he bedded, he was the type he kept around for a little while. 

He took one of Peter’s ass cheeks in his hand, roughly, solidly, and pulled it open revealing the kid’s perfect little pink hole. With his calloused thumb he pushed the oil up into him. Then he thickly coated his cock.

“You like it rough or slow, kid?” Tony asked in a low growl. Someone like Peter… he knew the type well. His insolence might earn him a whipping, but he doubted it. “You wanna feel all this dick going into that tight little hole of yours all at once, or do you want that pretty little thing opened up a bit at a time? You think you can take all of me?” 

Peter snorted. “You think that thing is good enough to make me come? You make me come on nothing but that cock, then when you can get it up again you come down my throat, and then I’ll consider where I want it for time number three, and I’ll make sure your life’s a whole lot easier.”

He bent over Peter and rubbed his cock along the crack of his ass. Not having been reprimanded for his manner of speech, he let himself go. “Baby, I’ve taken more boys like you apart than I can count. You just remember that my name is Tony. That way you know what to scream when I’ve fucked you brainless.”

Tony pulled away but kept one hand firmly on the boy’s back, just above the rise of his ass. He teased Peter’s hole with the head of his cock. 

“Dammit, Tony fuck me!”

Tony chuckled. “Bet you’re used to slaves just standing there doing whatever you tell them to. Little dicks you rode like they were pieces of silicone. You wanna fuck Tony the slave or you wanna find out what it was like to be fucked by Tony Stark?”

Peter gave a little whimper.

“Thought so,” Tony said as he thrust his thick cock into the boy all at once. Hard. Fast. And there was the scream and cry, something between the pain of being opened and the pleasure of the stretch. Beautiful. A sound he hadn’t heard for three years. He reached up and grabbed Peter’s shoulder, pulling him back to meet his thrusts. 

He started out with a brutal hard fuck. Peter’s cock was hard and the soft grunting moans that were forced out of him with the hard slap of Tony’s hips against his ass were signs of his pleasure. But Tony knew that was just a little rough foreplay. Not nearly enough to make the kid come untouched. Just a little… warming up.

“I’m not there yet,” Peter said smugly between his forced breaths.

Tony’s hand moved from Peter’s shoulder and tangled into his curly hair, grabbing a handful and tugging hard, pulling the kid’s head back. Peter cried out but pushed his ass back onto Tony’s cock, meeting his thrust and grinding in tight circles, pulsing around him. Tony registered the reaction. He had the kid’s number.

“I’m just starting, Peter.” His voice was gruff and deep. He knew the reaction it could cause. And the reaction that would come from hearing a slave say his name. He watched Peter fight back his whimpers by biting his lip. “I told you, I don’t come fast. Not even for a tight little piece of ass like you. I’ll get you there when I’m damn good and ready to get you there.”

He let go of Peter’s hair by roughly pushing his head away, as if he was done with his insolence. Reversing their positions. It was risky. It was all risky. Peter could decide after that he regretted the idea of letting a slave get away with treating him that way. But it felt so good to be able to be himself for even a little while. And the risk might pay off. The kid might _not_ have regrets. A life of fucking that pretty kid and getting to pretend that he was still himself was better than what he was doing. Even though that was better than field work. He started to show off.

One hand firmly on Peter’s hip, the other on his cock, he thrust in at a downward angle, still hard, but slower on entry to drag the head of his cock over Peter’s prostate. Once he was past that spot about two inches in, he sped up his stroke until he was buried deep. Peter’s sharp moan and arch of his back was rewarding. So he did it again. Until the kid’s back was broken out in sweat and his moans were caught on quick shallow panting. One last time to make Peter scream then he went back to hard and fast and straight in. Peter’s cock was dripping a pool of precome on the garage floor.

“You all right baby boy?” Tony crooned. He covered the kid’s back with his solid muscular body. Letting him feel the weight. 

“Tony, _please!”_ Peter’s words were drawn out impossibly long on a high pitched whimper. 

Oh that was rewarding. Having his ‘Master’ beg him.

“No. I’m not ready to come. You want it, work that ass on my dick, Peter. I’ll make you come just before I do. Gonna fill you up, kid.

“No you’re not.”

Tony chuckled. “That’s cute that you think you still have any say in this.”

He watched the shudder work all the way up Peter’s spine. The kid wanted to get fucked by a man and there weren’t any in his life, just simpering slaves and weak little boys like himself who pretended to be men.

Tony reached under Peter and wrapped his arm around his chest. He raised him off the workbench, halfway between bent and standing. He held him close, touching him with his body, running his hand up the kid’s chest to tease and pinch at a nipple for awhile. Before he ran his hand higher and shoved two of his dirty fingers into Peter’s mouth when he opened it to cry out to a sharp snap of Tony’s hips. Peter sucked on his fingers. Tony pushed them in deeper as he fucked into him. Peter sucked harder, drool running out of his mouth as Tony pressed his fingers down onto his tongue. 

With his foot, he pushed Peter’s legs closer together, making him tighter around his cock. He widened his stance and fucked upward into the kid. The new angle hit his prostate more times than not. 

“Fuck kid,” Tony groaned, long and low. “You’ve probably been fucked dozens of times, but never with a man’s cock. You’re so tight on me you almost feel cherry.” 

He hit the spot again and Peter cried out his name, broken and desperate and needy.

“Wanna come baby?”

“Oh yes! Yes Tony! Please!”

Tony kept one hand high on the kid’s chest, the other he put low on his stomach, splayed out, warm and rough and dirty all over that soft pale white skin. He pressed in slightly as he started to fuck with an aim to sending the kid over. He always loved making guys come from nothing but getting their ass fucked. Being able to do that a lot… well… there was a reason he had the reputation he did.

“Tony!” Peter called out his name sharply as he painted the front of the workbench with his come. 

He nipped at Peter’s ear. “Told you you’d remember my name,” he growled as he started to quickly work to his finish. Peter quaked in his arms. Shuddered. Whined. Riding the high of his orgasm. His cock still twitched and dripped as Tony fucked him through it.

“Got you all dirty,” Tony grunted. “Pretty baby.” He pulled Peter down onto his cock, burying in as deep as he could go. He groaned loudly as he came inside the kid who said he wouldn’t be allowed to do so. “Got you dirtier,” he said, kicking the kid’s legs apart so his come dripped out of Peter’s ass down onto his thighs when he pulled out.

Tony put his cock back into his pants and walked back over to his work. Leaving Peter there, holding onto the edge of the workbench, gasping, his shorts down around his ankles. His ass totally wrecked. He picked up the hammer and started reshaping the tractor’s fender. 

“Stick around and look pretty for me and I’ll get it up faster for round two. Those lips will be sweet wrapped around my cock.”

~~~~~

Richard snorted a laugh. “It figures you would find _him_ and make him fuck you. I appreciate the fact that you find the slave who had a reputation for being a good fuck and want to have him as your sex slave. But I need a mechanic on the ranch. He was the best in the world at what he did — both as a mechanic and as a piece of ass. You get him after he’s done his work. I’ll cut his hours from twelve to ten. Getting your ass fucked doesn’t take that long.”

“Maybe not the way you do it,” Peter muttered. “Twelve to eight,” he bargained. “And if I’m in the mood, he sleeps with me.”

“I don’t care if he sleeps with you or _sleeps_ with you, but he will be woken up at four thirty to start his day like the rest of the slaves. I’ll give you eight, but I expect him to complete a full workload in those eight. You know what I do to slaves who slack off.”

“I don’t care about that, as long as I can have him from the time he gets done working for you until the time he has to go back to it.”

“Christ, Peter. How long does it take him to fuck you?”

 _“Hours,”_ Peter said dreamily. “He can go three times if he has enough inspiration.” Peter smiled wickedly. “I was inspiring.”

Richard snorted again. “Slaves always brag about their skills. I knew Tony Stark. He was more ego than anything. That’s when he wasn’t busy being the world’s most famous drunk who let a multi-billion dollar tech conglomerate be mismanaged out from under him. But if you think he’s actually any good… one use for a slave’s as good as another. I’d be a hypocrite if I kept you from using a piece of meat to get off with. You’re welcome to him. But the minute your play time interferes with his primary use, he’s gone from your bed. And the punishment he’ll get for having wasted my time thinking he’s gone back to fucking for a living is going to be severe.”

~~~~~

Peter liked him dirty. Fresh off the day’s work. Sweaty and with a strong scent. The kid was an absolutely greedy cock whore for him. Whining and whimpering and begging for it. He let him come on his face. In his ass, down his throat, splattered up his back. And he’d wear it from one go til the next. Sometimes even all night as they slept tangled together. 

Despite being his owner, Peter was considerate of Tony’s schedule. He always got a good night’s sleep and in the mornings, Peter often woke up with him and showered with him and had breakfast with him. Which wasn’t the bland goop they dished out in the slave quarters. Tony tasted bacon and eggs and pancakes again. Just like he used to have at home. The good food and the good sleep made his workday more efficient. And the regular orgasms didn’t hurt it either.

Nor did the post-fuck affectionate come-down they spent together.

They’d been fucking for almost two months when Peter curled up along Tony’s side. “Tony?” he asked softly.

“Yeah baby?” Tony pressed his face into Peter’s sweat soaked curls. He’d just given the kid his first experience with multiple orgasms. Peter was glowing, his body still soft and suffering the occasional shudder still running through him. Raising them both together slightly, Tony reached down the bed for the soft duvet and pulled it over Peter before the kid got chilled. Tony was always too hot to be covered, but Peter ran cold. “What do you need, precious?”

Peter looked up at Tony. “You.”

Tony snorted. “You own me. That’s not a problem.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Peter said sadly. “I want _you.”_

“Baby, if things were different, you’d have me too.” Tony ran his hand down Peter’s back underneath the covers. “You’re beautiful. I always liked beautiful things.”

“Is that all I’d be to you?” He nuzzled his face against the solid muscle of Tony’s chest. 

“I don’t know, Pete.” It was hard to keep off the kid. He’d touch and he’d kiss whatever he could get to. Peter was like a sweet, sweet wine and he wanted every drop. But he knew to keep his distance. Everything was at the suffrage of his owner, Richard Parker. A fucking mediocre chemical engineer who got lucky with a couple of patents and retired early to play country squire on a slave-run ranch.

“You wouldn’t want me?”

“Oh baby, I’d want you plenty. That ass of yours is fuckin’ heaven.”

“Oh,” Peter said quietly.

“Pete, I don’t know you. I don’t know if I would’ve wanted more than to keep you in my bed for awhile. I know I was looking. Fucking around was losing its appeal. Sort of ‘been there done that’ and I’d fucked my way through the best ass in L.A. It was getting repetitive. But would it have been you? Who knows. All I know is that it isn’t you now. I don’t get to make those choices.”

“If you did?”

Tony snorted. “Do you have any idea of how much Obie drove Stark into debt? I’d be a slave for a hundred lifetimes if they could make me that long. And after all that, he still lost my fuckin’ company,” Tony said bitterly. 

“Speculating about ifs?” Tony continued. “That’s a free man’s game. My only ‘if’ is _if_ you’re gonna get bored with me or _if_ your father gets a better offer than my value and sells me. That’s my fuckin’ if. This? This is all playing games, baby boy. They’re fun games and I enjoy the hell out of getting to pretend that I’m still me. But it’s a fuckin’ game that a free boy gets to play with my body that he owns.

“So would I want to keep you if I was still free? What the fuck difference does it make in the world I live in now?”

“But I like you, Tony.” Peter said hesitantly. “I more than like you.”

Tony snorted again. “You like my dick up your ass. You don’t know me, kid. You have no idea what I was like, what I did every day, what my real work was, the way my mind worked, nothing. So you ‘more than like me’. How the fuck can you do that, huh Pete? Now, do you wanna fuck again or do you wanna keep playing with my head. You own me. Your choice.”

Peter rolled away from Tony and they both went to sleep.

~~~~~

“Get cleaned up and meet me downstairs in the lab,” Peter said when Tony came in after his workday. 

So, more head-fucking and less dick-fucking for the day. Tony went to Peter’s room, showered, and dressed in a clean set of work clothes. He went downstairs to the last place in the world that he wanted to be. He’d rather be out in the fields. Ever since Richard Parker recognized him, he’d been worried about this. The bastard earning money off of his real skills. He decided when he got noticed that if it ever _did_ happen, he’d sabotage the effort. He’d let the fucker beat him to death before he let him earn a penny off of what his brain could do.

“Yes, Young Master?” Tony asked once he was downstairs.

“This is dad’s space, mine’s over here.”

It reminded him of how it was in Howard’s house. There was Howard’s lab and workshop, much bigger than his and separated distinctly. Apparently it worked the same for Richard. Though Tony hadn’t realized that Peter was anything but a bubble butt airhead spoiled rotten twink. Not that he had a lab downstairs with his dad.

“I’ve been working on this new adhesive threading. Woven together I think it would be useful in a lot of ways,” Peter explained as he brought out his notes and samples of his work. 

“I wasn’t a chemist, Young Master.” Inside the house, they had to revert to putting the ‘young’ in front of the designation because Richard was often around. “Your work is outside my area of expertise.” He hoped that would be the end of it. It wasn’t.

“3D manipulation of the chemical model would help. I don’t have the means for it. I’ve tried every modeling software that’s out there. No one at Stark has been able to get into your AI and retrieve your work. You used to have a 3D modeling table. I saw pictures of it in a journal when I was a kid.”

“I had no idea you were a chemist like the Master, Young Master.”

“I dropped out of college. Dad was pissed, but as long as I’m working and being self-taught, he deals with it. I don’t work a lot. He drives me nuts and I hate being down here. If I lived on my own, I’d do more, but… he holds the purse strings.”

Tony swallowed back a bitter chuckle. He remembered those days. The struggle to get a dime out of Howard while he was at MIT. “Well, if they can’t get the 3D table design out, it must be for a good reason, Young Master,” Tony said, meeting Peter’s eye with resolution.

“They can’t get _any_ designs out. They can’t even get your AI, JARVIS, to be anything other than minimally functional.”

The corner of Tony’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. He’d tried to blackmail Obie into saving his ass by locking everything he’d ever worked on tightly away. Stane was convinced that his engineering team would be enough to keep Stark afloat. It wasn’t. Rather than let himself follow Tony into debt slavery, he flew his plane into the Pacific Ocean. Stark Industries was broken up and sold. Including the brand name. His name. Before his sale, Tony sent JARVIS off to the far reaches. A bit here, a bit there, seemingly unconnected but actually very much connected. JARVIS was just as capable as he was three years ago. And he still kept all of Tony’s secrets.

“I need your help with this, Tony,” Peter asked. His voice had a touch of the pleading tone it did when they were fucking.

“That’s nice,” Tony said harshly. “You’re not getting it.”

“You have to.”

“Yeah, no. Go on. Tell your father I’m uncooperative. I don’t give a fuck. You get my body. He gets my hands. Nobody gets my brain. So fuck you, _Young Master,”_ Tony said with bitter sarcasm.

Peter turned, smiling, and ran to Tony. He stood on tiptoes and hugged his neck. “I love you,” he whispered into his ear.

Tony blinked, confused. “Wha…?”

“You refused me. You. Tony Stark, not Tony the slave.”

He snorted. “Oh joy. I’m still me inside here. I’m sure that’ll be beaten out of me soon enough. You’re an idiot, Peter.” He turned away and headed for the stairs. “I’ll be sleeping in the slave quarters with the rest of the ones like me.”

“Tony, stop. Please.”

On the first step, Tony turned. “Why? You want me in your bed tonight instead? Sure. Whatever the Young Master desires. You want my cock hard, just put those lips on it. You can ride me until you get yourself off. You wanna find out what it’s like to fuck someone? Not like I can stop you.” He stepped down and strode menacingly toward Peter. “I have one thing. _One thing._ And no one is getting that. You or Richard or whoever can flay my back until there’s not a scrap of skin left on it. You. Don’t. Get. It,” he spat. “You don’t get _me.”_ He stood there quivering with anger.

“Is there a problem, Peter?” Richard said, walking through the door. He glared at Tony.

“No father. No problem. You know the kind of thing I like,” Peter said, with a flirty smirk. He walked over to Tony and ran his hand up the man’s arm. “I like this kind of thing right here. Rough and dirty with an absolutely _huge_ dick that fucks like a beast.”

Richard chuckled. “That is _far_ too much information, Peter.” He looked around Peter’s lab. “Keep your toys where they belong and not where they don’t.”

Peter climbed a few steps to stand above Tony. He reached down and tangled his fingers in the man’s thick hair and gave it a little tug. He looked at his father with a smug smile. “C’mon baby. I’ve got a hot hungry hole that needs filling.”

Richard shook his head and went back to his own lab.

~~~~~

“Are you having fun, Young Master?” Tony asked, a vicious tone in his voice, once they reached Peter’s bedroom and the door was shut behind them. 

“God Tony stop that. You know I like it when you call me Peter.”

“Whatever you command, _Peter.”_

“Stop!” Tears ran down Peter’s face.

“I don’t know what you think is going to come of this. So you got me to remember who I was. So you think you fell in love with that man, a man you never knew and never will know. What, exactly, do you think any of this changes!”

“I don’t know!” Peter swiped at his eyes. “I just want you to be you. I want you to go home and to have your business back and to have your life back. I want you to be happy. I want to have a chance to get to know _that_ man you say I don’t know. I want you to have your work back. I want you to have your inventions back. I want you to have JARVIS back. I w…”

Tony laughed bitterly. “Oh that’s a good game, Richard!” Tony shouted. “I assume you’re watching from somewhere, you pathetic little social climbing nobody! Sending your son to be a cute little piece of ass to soften me up. Whimpering at me with talk of _twu wuv._ You don’t think I can resist a good fuck? That I’m as weak willed as you are, you fucking cheat. Wanna tell Mary how many free mistresses you’ve had on the string over the years in addition to your pieces of slave ass? I don’t let my dick lead me everywhere, unlike you. I wasn’t anywhere _near_ the playboy and the drunk I was made out to be. You’re a bigger imbecile than I thought you were if you believed that. How the hell could I have done the work I did if I was always staring at the bottom of a bottle like your wife? I was betrayed! I will let you torture me and tear me into little pieces and tear those little pieces into littler pieces before you get a single line of JARVIS’ code!”

“Tony I…”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Peter.” Tony took Peter by his upper arms and pushed him back to bounce on the bed. “I’m tired of the damn game.” He looked down at the boy coldly. “You _bore_ me.” He walked out Peter’s balcony door, down the outer stairs, and went back to the garage the kid took him out of.

~~~~~

“Tire of your toy already, Peter?” Richard asked him a couple of days later, noting the lack of late night sounds from his son’s room.

Peter rolled his eyes. “God dad, seriously.”

“Lover’s spat?”

“Would you please!”

“Peter, if you want Stark back in your bed, I’ll order him back in your bed. If you’re done with him, I’ll make sure he stays away and fill his days with so much work he won’t have time to even think about you. I know it’s easy to get little crushes on slaves, but you have to remember _who_ you are and _what_ they are. Not what they used to be. Keep everyone in their proper place and the world turns smoothly.”

Peter huffed and shook his head, pushing away from the table to head upstairs to his room.

“So what’ll it be? Your bed or the garage?” Richard asked.

“Leave it the _fuck_ alone! That’s what it’ll be!”

“Peter, language,” his mother slurred as he disappeared from the room.

~~~~~

Peter spent every afternoon for a week sitting on the fence railing, watching Tony work in the garage. The man never once looked up at him. 

In the early morning, he rode off on his horse to parts unknown, coming back just in time to take up his fence sitting. When dinner was called, he ate quickly then locked himself in his room.

“Can you prove it?” Peter asked, finally hopping down off the fence and standing in the garage doorway.

“Prove what, Young Master?” Tony asked. He set down his tools and obediently stood still, his eyes cast downward.

“That you were betrayed.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Young Master. With your permission, the Master wishes this baler in working condition by tonight.”

“Tony, will you get over this? I’m trying to help you,” Peter said, stepping closer.

Tony didn’t move, but neither did he respond to Peter’s nearness. “I stand where the Master orders me to stand, Young Master. At this time, I am ordered to this garage.

Peter pushed himself to sit on the workbench. “Then don’t let me keep you from your work, _slave,”_ he said, staring the man down.

They were like that until dinner was called. Peter watched while Tony worked, ignoring him. Peter went in and soon came back with a plate heaping full of food. He pushed back up on the workbench and resumed watching Tony as he ate. He heard a small snort of derision from the other side of the machine Tony was working on.

Four thirty the next morning, Peter was sitting on the workbench eating breakfast when Tony arrived to his duties. 

“Kid, if you think a plate of bacon and eggs or roast beef is going to get you anywhere nearer to what your father wants…” he chuckled.

“Can you prove you were betrayed?”

“Gonna reopen my case?” Tony asked as he checked the schedule of work for the day. “How magnanimous of you. You think Richard’s gonna let you take one of his most profitable assets from him? Seriously kid, I don’t know what kind of game the two of you are playing now, but I’ve got work to do.” 

Tony started his work and kept at it as he kept up his line of patter. “Don’t you have… I dunno… some high bred pretty boy to fuck you by now? Your father’s gotta be looking to marry you off to someone from a more socially acceptable family than that of a former middle manager at Dow. He’ll set you and your hubby up with a surrogate to produce the next Parker heir. Make you into a little boy-mommy.” Tony moved about the workshop, taking care of minor jobs. “And when he’s done stuffing his little dick up your empty hole and failing to make you come with it, you can go have a wank in the shower and remember what it was like to have mine, making you come so many times you were lying there, twitching, cock dry and still coming on my cock.” 

Peter stormed out of the workshop.

“You shouldn’t talk to the Young Master that way,” the new slave, Quentin, who’d been bought to be Tony’s assistant, said. “Someone might tell the Master.”

“Get the fuck out of my workshop, Beck. I fired you once, I’m firing you again.”

“You can’t fire me, Stark. I was bought to work on the equipment, same as you.”

Tony threw a wrench at the other man’s head. “There’s a stalled tractor in the south pasture. Take that and get the fuck out.” The other man stalked over to him. Tony smirked. “You sure you wanna play that hand?” He got up in Beck’s face and marched him backwards out of the garage. Tony nodded to the door track in the floor. “That’s the line. Stay your ass on that side of it and out of my goddamn shop. Next time I won’t miss.” Tony picked up a tool bag and dropped it on the outside of the door-line. “South pasture. Tractor. If you think you can manage it.” 

Tony doubted he could. Programming had been Beck’s field. Richard was stupid enough not to know, or not to care, about the difference between an engineer and a software engineer. There was a reason why Stark’s chemical division had taken a pass on Parker’s resume when it came across their desk.

~~~~~

The very latest model of tractor came with every bell and whistle imaginable. GPS, computer monitors, radio tracking, all the mod cons if a driver wanted to get inside, not that one was needed. They ran themselves.

Tony smiled once Richard took delivery of it and went back inside, leaving him to prepare it for work. Beck crossed the line to make a pest of himself.

“Get that tractor working yet?” Tony asked with a smirk.

“That’s more your line of work. The software on this is more mine.”

“Uh huh. Just how many Turing capable neural net artificial intelligences have _you_ created? You can come back into my shop once you’ve got _one_ under your belt. There’s a tractor you’ve been trying to get running for three days waiting for you.”

“It’s supposed to rain today,” Beck groused. 

“Sounds like you’re gonna get wet.”

In the cab of the new tractor, Tony went to work. “Hello J, how’ve you been?”

“Fine, sir. Everything’s secure. May I say what a pleasure it is to hear from you again.”

“Same, J, same.” Tony dropped his voice to a low mutter. “Hear me like this? No earpiece?”

“Without difficulty.” 

“Fine. You go silent. Display only. First order of business, you’re to cause a fault somewhere in this fuckin’ thing to get it in here every six to ten days, randomized. 

~~~~~

“It’s back in the shop again?” Richard asked Tony.

“They’re fiddly things, Master,” Tony explained. “More advanced means more things to go wrong.”

“It’s because they’re controlled by computers, Master,” Beck volunteered. “More my field than a simple mechanic’s.”

Tony chuckled derisively. “Master, I don’t know what the auctioneer told you about this one… It’s a shame what they’ll do to take advantage of a good man. He lasted less than six months at Stark. Incompetent — he failed to complete one single project on time or under budget. Falsified education records — a UCLA drop out who never saw the inside of Caltech’s cafeteria, much less a classroom. But the kicker was that he was mentally unstable. Attacked three of his co-workers, Master. Without provocation. I hope that the thief who sold him to you sold him cheap.”

Beck looked apoplectic and about to prove the ‘mentally unstable’ accusation with one of his balled up fists to his former boss’ face.

“Thanks for that warning, Tony.” Richard said, looking Beck up and down. “As I recall, you were a computer expert as well as a mechanic.”

“A small skill, Master,” Tony demurred. “I’ll have this up and working for you before lunch.”

After a little over a month of continual faults, Tony convinced Richard that the best course of action was to bring the new, computer controlled tractor in for brief, once weekly, preventative maintenance. Scheduled for right before Tony’s workshift ended for the night, when there was no one around to see, or hear, what he was doing.

Beck never darkened the workshop door after Tony told Richard about him. And Peter too stayed away.

~~~~~

“You’re doing something, Tony,” Peter said, taking up his long-disused perch on the top of Tony’s workbench. 

“Yes, Young Master. I’m cleaning the rust off the bumper of this 49 Mercury 8 Coupe the Master found under a tarp in the old barn.” Yeah, if the ‘old tarp’ was wherever the hell _his_ cars had been sold, and this one left out to get all fucked up.

“No, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“I’m sorry Young Master, I don’t presume to know what you think I know.”

Peter laughed. “That was yours.”

“Really,” Tony drawled. “I never would’ve known from the Stark 15 license plate your father ‘conveniently’ left in the trunk.”

“Richard’s a shithead.”

“You’d know best, since the apple never falls far from the tree.”

“Dammit Tony! How long are you going to…”

“Going to what? I’m not the one with the power to keep me out of your bed. Or in it.”

“You’re working on something.”

“Yes, Peter. I’m working on one of my cars that your father, or whoever had it before him, treated like crap and let the chrome blister and rust.” He clicked his tongue as he pushed a fruit tree pit off the hood. It left a acid-eaten flaw in the finish. “That was factory paint. Not a dent on her. Engine perfect. She’ll never be what she was. She’s worthless, no matter what I do to fix her. Not that Richard will know the difference.”

“What is it?”

“A… bumper?” Tony said, playing dumb.

“I could help you, you know?”

Tony snorted. “I heard that offer before. Come up with something original.” He paused. “Or are you still a boring fuck.”

~~~~~

“Dad’s worried.”

Tony crawled out from under the car and looked over at Peter, where he always was when he came to pester him. “‘Dad’?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Dad, Richard, whatever. It doesn’t matter. He’s worried.”

“And this concerns me, how?”

“I think it’s bad, Tony.”

“As I said.”

Peter pushed himself off the workbench in a huff. “If the ranch goes under, you’ll be sold with the property!”

“And, as I said, this concerns me… how? I’m a slave. Of course I’ll be sold with the rest of Richard’s property.”

“This is your fault!”

Tony chuckled. “You have amazing faith in my ability to do anything from my position.”

“It is!”

Tony pushed himself back under the car. “If I’m sold off for Richard’s debts, I won’t be the only one, Peter.”

Peter pulled on Tony’s feet, yanking him out from under the car again. “Do you hate me that much?”

“To hate someone, you have to care. I don’t give a damn about you, Peter, one way or the other.”

~~~~~

“Nice to see you back, Mr. Stark,” the oily, obsequious man who welcomed him into the auction house said.

“You never saw me before. I never bought slaves.”

“I merely meant…”

“I know what you meant.” Tony brushed past the man.

“Someone who didn’t have a taste for it, yet here you are.”

“Looking for more lab rats for your failed experiments, Killian?”

Tony went to the bank of auction agents. He whispered in the woman’s ear and left just as the auctioneer called out, “Parker Estate, lot one.”

~~~~~

“You _were_ working on something,” Peter said from his position, his ankle chained to the foot of Tony’s bed, when the man arrived home.

“A bumper, as I recall.”

“How?”

Tony undid his tie and started to undress. “A fatal mistake.”

“What was it he did?”

“Aren’t you an insolent little slave, asking all those questions of your master.”

“I wouldn’t be a slave if it wasn’t for you.”

“Really,” Tony said in that same slow drawl he did the last time he saw Peter. “You’re a bright boy, baby. If you figure it out, I’ll fuck you and instead of fucking whatever boy I bring home from the party tonight.”

“It’s why you got rid of Quentin,” Peter said with a sly smile as Tony came out of the dressing room, changing into his evening clothes.

“I got rid of Beck because he pissed me off. Again.”

“Maybe. That wasn’t why though.”

“Do tell, Peter, why did I get rid of Beck?”

“He was the only one other than you who knew computers.”

“I’m sure you know your way around a keyboard.”

“Well duh. But I wasn’t out in the workshop.”

“You were out there too much,” Tony said, continuing to change his clothes. They were a few years out of fashion — almost four to be precise — but black tie didn’t change much. 

“Yes, but I hardly took interest in Richard’s new, computer controlled, tractor.”

Tony’s lips quirked up as he fastened his watch on his wrist. Worth more than what Peter went for. “So I had computer access? How did that help me? It wasn’t connected to the internet.”

“Oh please, Tony. It had GPS. Satellite connections. All you had to do was aim the GPS at a different satellite. Like one that Stark Industries used to own.”

“Hmm. Still don’t see how that…”

“JARVIS. God, Tony. I had Richard convinced I was an idiot. I didn’t think I had you convinced.”

“Well, it wasn’t like you had me with you to show off your scintillating conversation skills. You had better things to do with your mouth. Which I look forward to finding out if you’re as good at when you’re _not_ the one in charge.”

“Well?” Peter asked. “Are you coming home alone?”

“You have the method, but how?” He propped his foot up on the edge of the bed to tie his shoe. “It’s some whoeverthefuck’s birthday. Producer. Fond of pretty young men. Sure to be plenty to choose from for me to bring home. Maybe I’ll let you suck him off while I fuck him.

“Gotta go. Happy’s going to swing me by Audi to pick up my new car. Seems like they love having me promote them again.”

“Did you get Stark Industries back?” Peter asked.

Tony laughed. “Of course.”

“All of it?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you got every bit of it back except the chemical division that Richard bought cheap.”

“I did make the others better offers,” he admitted. “But Stark Chemical is back in the fold now, since Richard’s play at country squire failed. I even own your father, pet. I never ran Stark on slaves, not when so many need work. But even at a good salary, it’s always hard to find tank scrubbers. And I don’t have to pay a slave haz-mat pay.”

“What happened to mom?” Peter asked, a little quietly.

“No fuckin’ clue. Don’t care.” He heard Peter sniffle. “Yeah, she was your mom. She also beat the hell out of a kitchen slave for breaking a plate. She had a mean hand with a cane, and because she was drunk all the time, her aim sucked. The girl died. So spare me your fuckin’ tears. You’re lucky you have a tight ass and are cute. That wouldn't have gone well for you if I hadn’t taken a liking to your mouth.”

“You started out with JARVIS working from the outside in,” Peter said quickly, answering the ‘how’. “First, set up a dummy corporation in the name of someone you trust who wasn’t more than an employee. I expect Pepper Potts is the new CEO of Stark Industries,” Peter continued evenly. “Name brand came cheapest. Gotta get your name back first and foremost. Divisions, cheapest inward. 

“No.” Peter stopped. “That’s wrong.” He looked around the room. “You wouldn’t have had to go cheap. You had assets never disclosed. Swiss. Hard, not currency, not electronic. Gold. Gems?” He looked at Tony sideways. “Oh yeah. Pretty sparkly things. Rich dad like yours musta spent a fortune on his trophy wife. Gold _and_ gems. JARVIS gave Ms. Potts the number. Now the buyback is fully funded. But that’s not going to get you your freedom. You were forty _billion_ in debt. What was left of Stark wasn’t worth anywhere near that much.” Peter closed his eyes. “Your patent files, those were bought back in your scheme, but now owned by the dummy, unable to be used. Work in progress at the time of your sale… sure. That might get you a little, but there was no guarantee to whoever funded you that your plan would work and it wouldn’t be a worthless investment because you’d still be a slave.” 

Peter laughed. “You sold the only thing you wouldn’t give up. _Him.”_ Peter nodded up at the ceiling where he’d heard the disembodied voice when he was brought in and chained to Tony’s bed.

“Not exactly, but close enough. His brother, TADASHI. Not quite as versatile or intelligent, but enough. Look for a new interface on the next gen i devices. Of course the next Stark devices will make those obsolete before they hit the consumer as I downport some of JARVIS’ most basic functions, but give them his brand name, that everyone knows is my _personal_ creation. Sorry, J.”

“That’s entirely fine, sir. The proliferation of my code through hundreds of thousands of devices…”

“That’s enough, J,” Tony said warningly. “So I guess I’m coming home alone tonight, Scheherazade.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I suck at storytelling.”

Tony chuckled. “Good thing you don’t suck at sucking. Ever get your face fucked, baby boy?” Tony shrugged into his jacket. “Just a little something for you to look forward to when I get back.”

“Two last questions,” Peter called out just before Tony left the room.

Tony smiled. “Make them good.”

“The fatal mistake.”

He laughed. “Letting my car get ruined.”

“Seriously?” 

Tony shrugged. “It was the one I never drove. I drive all my cars. Even the Shelby. But that one had less than a hundred miles on it. Showroom. And it was pristine. One hundred percent factory condition. Much like Richard claimed, it _was_ found under a tarp in an old barn. So yes. That was your father’s fatal mistake.” He paused. “Question two?”

“‘I wouldn’t be a slave if it wasn’t for you’.” Peter quoted himself.

“Not exactly a question. And its answer self-evident in the previous.

“A car. For want of a car, I’d be free.”

“People have been sold for less. I was always going to regain my freedom and my company. Once Obie was dead, there was no reason to stay a slave. I just had to survive long enough to get the pieces to fall into place. Get sold to the right person. One who would recognize me. One who would let me work at what I’m good at.”

“You had this all set up?”

“‘I had Richard convinced I was an idiot. I didn’t think I had you convinced’,” he tossed back. “Have a lovely evening, Peter. Your chain reaches the bathroom. Be clean, prepared, and naked when I get home.”

“When will that be?” Peter asked.

“When I walk through that door ready to use your body however I see fit, _slave.”_

**Author's Note:**

> My Starker blog on tumblr is [starker-stories](https://starker-stories.tumblr.com/).  
> Come on by and visit.


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